


Fate Follows

by Jupiterra



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Complete, Eventual Relationships, Fluff, M/M, RusAme, lots of nations show up, rusame is main focus
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-24
Updated: 2017-10-24
Packaged: 2019-01-22 16:45:43
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 10
Words: 14,636
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12486208
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jupiterra/pseuds/Jupiterra
Summary: Something is wrong with America. A very bored Russia intends to find out what that is.





	1. Chapter 1

Alfred, the living symbol of the United States of America, was acting strangely today. The blue eyed blonde was quiet and unusually polite. He was barely raising a fuss over petty stupid issues, and partially listening as his president talked with the leader of Russia. 

Ivan observed with royal purple gaze, trailing behind the group slightly. As a representative of the Russian Federation, It was the ash blond's job to be aware of his former American nemesis. Though they weren't enemies anymore, Ivan was so very cautious. He was cautious of everyone. His old enemy was distracted, or... tired? It was difficult to see beyond that handsome Hollywood smile Alfred always wore.

It was so inconsiderate of the brash American to be absent minded. This was a somewhat expensive trip to discuss nuclear armaments at several locations in northern Russia. Alfred could at least stop staring into the distance and watch where he was going.

Walking alongside his prime minister once again, Ivan leaned and softly said “My apologies, I need to attend to personal affairs, sir.” The gruff Russian looked at him somewhat disapprovingly, then nodded. “Of course. Be quick about it.” the man replied, returning to his previous conversation. Grinning, Ivan grabbed Alfred roughly by the arm. The American flinched and tried to pull away. His resistances seemed surprisingly weak.

“Dude, stop being weird and let go.” Alfred resisted, still failing to tug himself free. The American had always been slightly stronger, which made this whole situation alien. The young blond should be able to throw Ivan like a pencil. Ivan was no longer smiling in predatory fashion, concerned. Without asking the younger nation's permission, the Russian started dragging his unwilling companion to the closest military building.

Protesting loudly, the blue eyed blond was not fighting back much as he was pushed into a brightly lit men's bathroom. A few soldiers looked confused, until Ivan gave them all a deadly glare. They fled the scene quickly. Finally alone, Alfred slumped against the bathroom wall.

“What do you want commie? A fight? Because I'll go. I'll kick your socialized godless ass!” Alfred bristled, raising his fists. Ivan had no doubt about that claim, having been thoroughly trashed on more than three occasions. Not that he would admit that to anyone. But he ignored the threat, and casually began his examination.

Slightly taller, Ivan started touching Alfred's face and checking out the condition of his eyes. Finally, there was forceful retaliation. Twisting out of the invasive grip, the American was reluctantly angry. “I said leave me the fuck alone!” he growled, starting to look a little red. “Nyet. You are sick America.” Ivan insisted, getting irritated himself.

The freckled blonde paled, faltering in his fury. “I'm fine. Leave me alone.” he replied coldly. Was the nation leaning against the wall for support? The purple eyed Russian held Alfred against the wall with one gloved hand. “Let me go.” Alfred demanded, glaring. “Make me.” Ivan countered stubbornly. There was a quiet moment, then a sigh. “What do you want Ivan?” Alfred asked sourly in resignation.

“Shut up and and stay still, da?” Ivan ordered, feeling uncomfortable at having won so easily. He quickly took note of the American's health. His eyes were dull, instead of a sky blue that went on forever. He was unusually pale, and ridiculously weak. Running gloved fingers along that elegant jaw line, Ivan could feel the constant heat of his former enemy. Lucky boy. Ivan only ever felt the biting cold.

Alfred scowled and pushed the hand away. “Inappropriate dude. What are you even looking for?” Purple eyes slid over the younger nation's form, taking in every detail as he talked. Caramel skin moved over muscle and sinew. A little too much detail perhaps. It was obvious now. 

“You are having famine, America.” Ivan announced as he stepped back. The American snorted derisively, also making more personal space. “No way. I'm fine. You're just crazy.” he accused, crossing his arms. The shirt he wore bunched up loosely, more evidence to his condition. “I know famine, little America, and you are having famine.” the Russian argued, blocking the exit for the bathroom. 

“I don't care. Fight me or let me leave. I don't have time for this shit.” Alfred replied crossly. Ivan didn't respond, staring him down as a visual challenge. The angry blond took the challenge, pushing the Russian aside like nothing. That was normal at least, until Alfred leaned on the door frame to catch his breath. He then stood properly, straightened his shirt, and left.

Ivan relished having a large project or impossible goal. No longer listlessly doing paperwork for his aloof boss, the tall ash blond schemed. He would discover the cause of Alfred's famine, and other secrets along the way. It was all for political relations, or some other excuse. Snooping around was fun!

00000

Alfred was relieved to leave Russia that afternoon. Between his overly concerned president and Ivan being a freak, the freckled blond was sick of questions. He just wanted to go home and watch a movie with a bucket of ice cream. Well, maybe skip the ice cream. Maybe he should just hit the gym. There was always another spot of pudgy ugliness waiting to be burnt off. Stretching slightly, the American let his tired body drift. It was a seven hour plane ride back home. He could afford the luxury of a nap.

The Tetris theme song. It was the first sound Alfred heard as he stirred from slumber on the plane. He almost hummed along with whoever was whistling it. Yawning and opening his eyes, he shuddered at the source of the song.

It was Ivan with his bloodless complexion and unnatural violet eyes. The nation was just watching him with a half lidded gaze, smug and proud. Wanting to scream, Alfred settled for a sharp breath. “What the hell are you doing here?” he whispered harshly. “I grow bored of following you, so I come over to play.” Ivan explained innocently while browsing Alfred's phone.

Snatching the phone back, Alfred tucked it in his pocket. The pocket was strangely empty. Where was his wallet? Looking to Ivan, the leather wallet was in his slender hands. The Russian was currently giggling at photos stored on the inside. “Stop taking my stuff!” Alfred growled, taking back his remaining possessions. 

This was going to be a long flight.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> POV jumps between Ivan and Alfred a lot. I'll assume you can tell the difference.

Under normal circumstances, Ivan would be more patient. Between no military scuffles lately and a very boring boss, he was itching for something to do. Stalking America had been a breeze due to the younger nation's exhausted condition. The ash blonde was sitting next to his prey on the plane after only twenty minutes. Ivan grew bored, normally taking an hour or more to sneak up on his paranoid companion. After a brief nap himself, the Russian noted they were almost finished crossing Europe. Not so long ago, it took months and a caravan of horses to achieve such distances. How times changed.

Remembering his investigation, Ivan took everything from Alfred's pockets as he slept. A pack of gum, string, some cigarettes, a passport... nothing of interest. A phone was found. Now he was getting somewhere. The phone was password protected, but Alfred was a predictable creature. After trying 'USA' and failing, Ivan punched in 'FREEDOM'. Well, that was easy. Guessing the trends of a youth obsessed blond, Ivan figured text messages would be the best place to start.

So many messages. It was foolish of the freckled American to save these texts. They stretched back months. Ivan skimmed for anything not work or sibling related. Alfred was surprisingly dependent on Canada for weekend plans. It reminded Ivan of himself, when he used to follow Ukraine about, clutched to her skirt as a young nation.

Some months ago there had apparently been a presidents day party. Alfred had invited five other nations to attend, but they all cancelled attendance last minute. The American had claimed everything was fine, that 'loads of people were coming anyway'. Ivan didn't judge the poor lie, or the nation beside him. Before Ivan gave up on holidays in general, he had used similar lines on others.

Diagnosis of the problem grew more complicated. America was clearly not in famine, since his peoples looked well enough on the social networks. He was starving though. Illness was not to be ruled out yet. It was also obvious the nation was lonely, the obnoxious texts to Canada evidence enough. That was normal.

Humming Korobeiniki, Ivan started browsing Alfred's various work contacts. Nothing of interest here. Slowly, the snoozing American woke in his seat. The rest of his snooping would have to continue later.

00000

After landing at the airport, Alfred couldn't get rid of his Russian pest fast enough. The ash blond was being particularly dense today. “Ivan. Go stay at a hotel or something. I don't know know why you followed me, but I don't care.” Alfred dismissed coldly. The Russian narrowed his eyes, as if wanting to start something. He seemed to change his mind, smiling like a creeper. “Of course, Alfred.” he replied, wearing a loose sweater despite the summer weather. He then picked up his bag and left without complaint.

Strange as it was, Alfred was glad there was no confrontation. He was too tired for such things. No matter how hard he exercised lately, that stubborn fat on his gut wouldn't go away. Maybe when he arrived home, he could give it another shot. The taxi ride was quiet, but not weird. Alfred found his citizens were mostly agreeable folks. The fee was slightly excessive at the end, but business was business.

Glad to pile into his home, Alfred ignored the sorry state of his living room. He didn't care, and probably wouldn't care tomorrow. No one had visited in a while. There was no need to clean up if no one was coming over. His office was considerably cleaner, mostly for his own sanity. 

Plopping into his office chair, Alfred excitedly turned on his computer to check his e-mails. Three weeks ago Matthew had invited him to go fishing. Granted, the impatient American hated fishing with a passion these days. Spending time with his brother was the important part. Logging in to his account, Alfred bounced a little in his chair. There was a new message. He opened it with gusto, eager to read what Canada had to say.

Two polite sentences in, Alfred deflated. Matthew had to cancel their outing. He had a date with Ukraine on the weekend. That was... fair. Matthew deserved to get laid anyway. The plucky American would be fine. He was always alright, the smiling happy guy at all the meetings. It wasn't like he was desperate for company or anything. The dull ache in his chest meant nothing.

Not bothering to turn the computer off, Alfred shuffled out of his office and went upstairs. Crashing on his bed, the blue eyed blonde curled in on himself. He definitely wasn't totally upset, or crying. He was the goddamn United States of America, and he didn't feel sadness. He would be just great by himself this weekend, like every other weekend.

Alfred was still sniffling when he fell asleep an hour later. Jet lag was such a bitch.


	3. Chapter 3

That insolent little bug. Ivan wanted to snap America in half like twig. Who the hell told Ivan Braginsky, the soul of the mighty Russian Federation, what to do! He was going to break into Alfred's house, and rip everything to shreds. That would teach the upstart punk for questioning Ivan's motives. The ancient nation was just curious after all. It was like you weren't allowed to explore anymore!

The moderately exciting mystery of Alfred's illness was still unsolved. Ivan explored the streets of Washington for a time. It was always nice to get out of his own country and see other cultures. He passed a group of protesters, bluntly refusing their fliers. He saw families playing at a large park. He saw beds of flowers in front of cute little shops. Now was not a time for flower beds. He needed to continue his investigation. Back on track, the tall ash blond retraced his steps.

Hailing a cab, the drive was silent. It was acceptable. People didn't talk to him much anyway. Ivan lazily threw a fist full of rubles at the taxi driver upon arrival. The man looked primed to argue, but Ivan's deadly expression was enough to make most mortals piss themselves. The driver took the foreign money and raced away. Smart man.

Ivan faced the modest white colonial house in front of him. It was blatantly patriotic with American flag window shutters. Shockingly, this was the third house Ivan had seen that day to short such gaudy decor. Alfred was very much like his peoples. The Russian walked up to the porch, not bothering to stealth. He was bored, and wished to test the limits of America's security systems.

Nothing happened. Well, it was just a house. You couldn't expect mounted machine guns springing from the bushes. It would be rather dramatic and truly Alfred though. Now on the large wooden porch, Ivan peered in the windows. All the curtains were closed tightly. Fishing lock picks from his bag, Ivan casually set to work. The front door was being very resistant. Maybe Ivan was starting to get rusty at this type of thing. He couldn't recall breaking into anyone's house since last year. Frustrated, he gave up on picking the lock and simply twisted it until it broke. The door finally gave way, swinging open silently on oiled hinges. Strolling in, Ivan was surprised at what he saw.

America's house was disgusting. The living room was living in two opposing conditions. Most of the room was spotlessly cleaned and organized at one point, now thick with dust. In the centre, there was an overwhelmed coffee table with take out containers falling off of it. Empty run bottles were jammed underneath. More rum bottles were on top of a few flat surfaces along with old newspapers.

Edging around the mess, Ivan discovered a chair drowning in more food wrappers. Propping the front door closed with it, the house tour continued. There was an office off to the side that looked much more hygienic. The light was still on, along with the computer. Finally, something interesting.

The only thing on the screen was a rather sad email. Apparently his dear big sister was going on a date with that pathetic Canadian. That was unsettling. Maybe Canada needed to have his legs broken. He paused that thought, remembering that the gentle nation was friends with five people that owned active nuclear weapons. Hmm, maybe just break an arm then. No one cared about an arm.

So little America was incredibly depressed. His own kin had left the companion creature alone another weekend. Did he decide to stop eating? That seemed unlikely. The annoying blond adored food. Maybe there was more clues beneath all that trash in the other room. It was far beneath the nosy Russian to clean up another nation's mess. Then again, there was no other leads.

00000

Alfred woke from restful slumber, feeling better. He was nestled under the covers, resting his head on a cool pillow. He was content lay in the warm darkness of the bedroom, until the pillow shifted and moved over so slightly. A faint snore rattled from his 'pillow'. Panicking, he reached over and turned on a lamp.

The dim light revealed a hulking Russian sleeping soundly beside him in day clothes. Oh god! What was Ivan doing in his bed? How did Alfred end up in clean pyjamas under the covers? Why was his room laundry disaster free?

Calming himself, the American tried to lay down again. Problem was a certain home intruder was taking up half his mattress. There was only one position he could lie down again. With an incoherent mumble, Ivan rolled over in his sleep. Now trapped by a pair of arms, Alfred didn't know what to do. Ivan seemed really strong for some reason, mostly unmovable unless Alfred put effort into it.

“Ivan.” Alfred whispered, feeling uncomfortable. No response. “Ivan!” he said a little louder. There was a soft grunt as his hair was nuzzled. “Get off me fat ass!” the freckled blond hissed, pushing harder. The guy just wasn't waking up for anything. Officially angry, Alfred finally broke free of the covers. The Russian grumbled and shielded his eyes from the weak lamp light.

“Chto?” the pale bastard asked gruffly, looking confused. “What the fuck are you doing in my house?” Alfred demanded. “Mmm, I investigating mystery. Did you know you are very warm?” Ivan responded in kind. “Why are you in my bed? Don't you know what boundaries are?” Alfred yelled, frustrated. “I would sleep in guest room, but it is full of 'crap' as you say.” the Russian replied casually, unruffled by the whole situation.

The guest bedroom was pretty gross at the moment. Alfred hadn't hosted properly in a long time. “Well, there was a couch you could have used.” he countered. “I refuse sleeping in trash. I was royalty for many centuries, lapushka.” Ivan scoffed, somewhat offended. “Whatever. Now leave.” Alfred ordered, pointing to the door. Russia just rolled his eyes and snuggled under the covers again. 

No sneaky rat bastard was stealing his bed and his house! Alfred huffed and approached the mass under the blankets. He would drag the guy out if he had to. Alfred was tugged under expectantly, trapped in the muffled sheets. Thankfully the blankets were peeled back to let in fresh air. The cocky American found himself being held down and petted like a cat.

“Alfred, I have been finding clues. You are not in famine. You are exercising to death. Is maybe linked to sadness, da? I need more leads...” he said, largely to himself. “I never asked you to come here. Go away!” Alfred growled, failing to break free. “First thing is first. I help cure your sadness!” Ivan announced, as if he was conducting a science experiment.

“You can piss the fuck off and – oomph!” Alfred's string of curses was stifled by a large hug. How was Russia cool to the touch when he wore a long sleeve shirt in the summer? It seemed impossible. It was highly uncomfortable, impossible to escape. After ten seconds, it was clear the Russian wasn't trying to break his neck. Relaxing, the tanned American decided to wait whatever this was out. Russia had probably just lost his mind for the day. It happened.

Eventually, Ivan let his captive go. “Scientists have theory that hugs over 20 seconds increases production of oxytacin. Is very important hormone that prevents depression.” the weirdo pulled out a small notebook and grabbed a pen off the end table. He was documenting as he spoke, like this was a medical trial. Alfred didn't honestly know what to respond with, wearing a dubious expression.

“Next step, food is good. You are ready, da?” Ivan asked, not waiting for an answer. The freckled blonde was hardly surprised when he was dragged to the kitchen.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Like what you see? Comment or leave a kudos!


	4. Chapter 4

The investigation was more or less concluded in Ivan's mind. Someone had called Alfred fat enough times that he believed it. Coupled with being ditched by his associates, the silly American was slowly killing himself with too much exercise. Depression was likely holding back realistic chances of recovery.

The bored Russian had decided to document everything and make a medical experiment of this. Besides, it would be bad if the stupid American died. Who else would Ivan play chess with or insult profusely? Alfred being weak was boring as well. He might as well be a more vocal Latvia with all the challenge sucked out of him.

Ivan was currently at stage two of his little plan. A very grumpy Alfred was currently bound to a kitchen chair. The stubborn idiot refused to eat, claiming he was not hungry. Ignoring the lie, Ivan tied him down with metal chains and started feeding him the damn blini by hand.

“Perhaps England leaving you for long times in wilderness caused excessive need for affection.” Ivan pondered verbally, spearing another piece of breakfast on a fork. “... or your isolationist ways cause problems in long term.” he continued, feeding the morsel to his victim. At least Alfred was willingly eating them now. He seemed pleased that Ivan had made them fresh for the occasion with jam and whipped cream.

“Mmm. Yummy.” Alfred hummed, content. “Yo, big guy. Planning to unchain me anytime soon? This isn't how you make friends.” the blonde asked, clearly not afraid in the least. “Nyet. You will run away. So chains stay.” Ivan refused cheerfully. Cutting up more blini, Ivan took a bite himself. It was pretty damn delicious. “No, I don't want anymore.” Alfred refused on the next bite, turning his head away.

The man child of a nation was so frustrating! “You must eat or you will die, America!” Ivan fretted, not knowing what to do without resorting to extreme violence. “No. I'm just trying to avoid being a fatty.” Alfred replied, highly annoyed. Dragging a hand over his face, Ivan was at wit's end. “You are not fat. You are so skinny, I pin you with one hand. It is pathetic.” he repeated for the third time today. The younger nation stubbornly glared at him, until a phone rang.

Filed with urgency, Alfred rattled in his chains. “Ooh it's Mattie! Get it! Get it!” the American demanded excitedly. Ivan slipped it out of the front pocket on the pajamas, answering cautiously. “Hello?” he answered in Russian, slipping up his languages. “Hi... Russia. Could I please speak with Alfie?” a soft voice asked warily. Ivan grunted in response and held the phone to Alfred's ear appropriately.

“Hey bro.” Alfred greeted genially. There was a stretch of quiet, then he continued “It's fine. I'm busy right now anyway. Russia broke in and chained me to a chair. He's feeding me like... the cutest little pancakes you have ever seen.” Ivan gave a real smile at the unintended compliment. It felt nice to cook for someone after months without anyone to visit. “No. I almost killed him before. I could do it again if I wanted to. Go have fun with whoever.” Alfred replied confidently. The freckled blonde motioned to Russia after, saying “Phone's for you dude.”

Raising a brow, Ivan answered into the device “Here.” The surprisingly bold voice of Ukraine verbally attacked him in rapid Russian over the phone. “How many times have I told you, chaining people to chairs is bad! I didn't raise you to be so rude!” she berated in motherly fashion. “But they run away if I don't.” Ivan replied flatly in Russian, immune to his older sister's emotional nagging. “Try being nice.” she insisted. “I am going now.” Ivan dismissed, tired of the old topic. He promptly ended the call.

Ivan looked at Alfred, chained up and somewhat miserable. Ukraine was probably right. She had more friends than him, and more life experience as a subjugated state. Frowning sourly, he decided to unlock the padlock keeping the chains on. “Sestra always ruins fun.” he mumbled, peeling off most of the metal length.

Expecting to be kicked out, Ivan was surprised when Alfred stood and grinned. “So... wanna watch a show about shark attacks with me?” he asked plainly, totally ignoring that he was chained up only a minute prior. “... Da.” Ivan replied hesitantly, nodding.

00000

When Russia wasn't chaining people to things, he was passable company. He was still obviously crazy, but it was manageable. Ivan ended up staying another day before his bosses yelled at him to come home. They didn't do much. There was a pretty intense game of chess that Alfred barely lost. They visited the city aquarium and stared at the sea life. Mostly Ivan stuck around to make sure Alfred didn't throw up any food. Damn bastard. All those fancy meals were probably going to go straight to his ass. The American did feel a little stronger after eating a bunch of those baby pancakes though.

It was awfully nice that Ivan helped clean up the house. It was annoying that the pale Russian threw away all the diet pills and exercise magazines in the house. It was downright creepy that he kept sleeping in Alfred's bed like a damn vampire. Granted the guest bedroom was disgusting, but the down stairs couch was clean now. 

Ivan's reasoning for all of this was as unconventional as his method. 'I was bored' seemed to be the key reason. Alfred was disgruntled about being a strange experiment of his former nemesis. The nation wasn't actually doing anything harmful, so the American tolerated the treatment. Truthfully, he didn't understand why Russia was acting like this. The nation was just so hyper focused on accomplishing something. The oddity of his weekend with a likely crazed Russia came to light three days later.

Matthew visited without invitation on a Wednesday. It was a hot day, hot enough to reduce Alfred to a lazy blob on the couch. He had the day off for religious purposes, but had no intention of going to church. This left him with a one man marathon of mediocre action movies. There was rapid knocking on the front door, lurching Alfred out of his movie coma. Canada nearly busted down the recently repaired door when Alfred didn't answer it immediately. “I'm sorry if I wrecked the door... Alfie are you okay?” Matthew asked in concern, quiet as usual.

“Hey bro.” Alfred greeted lazily, not getting up. “What happened? You were chained to a chair? Did Russia do anything to you?” the Canadian politely inquired, worried. “Nothing bad happened. Russia was just crazier than normal. He stopped doing bondage shit after his sister sassed him out.” Alfred explained, somewhat embarrassed about the whole thing. Normally he had the strength to stop this kind of nonsense from happening... Unless Russia became super strong after their last squabble. That was a concerning thought.

“Are you sure?” Matthew pressed, coming closer. Alfred did not need another nation discovering how fat and gross he was today. Keeping his sibling at arms's length, the American put on his best bluff. Unlike Russia, who was comparable in strength, Canada was a bit of a push over. “I handled the loon fine. He was bored is all.” he falsely bragged, putting on airs. Seemingly satisfied, the northern nation backed off and looked around. He didn't comment on the partially dusty state of the room, which meant it was still a disaster. Alfred hated the overly polite shit, preferring the hard truth.

“Well I'm off then. I'm supposed to meet up with someone, eh.” Matthew explained. Alfred winced inside, horribly jealous. He wanted to have weekday plans too. “Cool. Have fun dude.” the tanned blonde bid goodbye to his slightly paler brother. Waving him out, Alfred closed and locked the door. 

Feeling blue again, Alfred flopped back on the couch. He lay there for some time, not paying attention to the flickering lights of the TV. He almost slipped into slumber, when his phone buzzed. Alfred sat up, not recognizing the sound at first. Someone had sent him a text. He'd tried to get a few nations into it but they never bothered.

It was probably just ads or a wrong number, he reasoned to himself. Reading the text, his heart rate jumped. It was a text for him, from another nation! It wasn't too surprising that Russia would text him since the guy was somewhat into social networking and adored internet memes.

_Hello Alfred. Did you eat lunch?_

Excited, Alfred had to stop trembling to type straight. Someone wanted to talk to him! _None of your business big guy._

_Do not make me chain you to a chair again. You will eat. I will break your legs so you can't refuse._ Ivan threatened, generally using the double negative route to say nice things. Exchanging vague threats and slurs, Alfred didn't notice how much time he had spent on his phone until it was lunch time.


	5. Chapter 5

Ivan wasted time at work, bored out his mind. Currently he was folding bits of paper into a castle on his desk. It was lunch break at the Kremlin, which he despised. Everyone there was mostly afraid to talk to him. Worse, the ones that did only conversed about the weather. The weather was terrible most of the time. Why the hell did it matter? This was not news to the nearly 900 year old immortal nation. Ugh, he was just so painfully bored.

Picking at the plain lunch he packed, Ivan glanced at his phone. Remembering his half baked plan to fortify his former enemy, the Russian decided to send a text. If that American idiot wasn't eating again, Ivan was going to fly over and cram the food down his throat personally. There would be no one Ivan could torment without pissing off all of Europe if the dope killed himself. Then he would be exponentially more bored.

Alfred was eager to reply to the text, as expected. The one thing the younger nation could reliably produce was snappy one liners. Though Russia would never admit it, he did need time to construct equally sharp responses. He had a notebook or two filled with the things. It was important because he didn't want to look stupid in front of the other countries. Everyone knew politics was largely hot air and acting.

After two hours of exchanging mostly nonviolent quips, Ivan glanced at the time. He was surprised to see it was the fourteenth hour. Two hours had passed by quickly! No one seemed to notice him slacking off for two hours, so Ivan promptly resumed pouring over papers for public projects again. When it was time to go home, Ivan packed everything up and walked out with his suit case.

The drive home was long and monotonous. Unbuckling his seat belt, Ivan decided to relax in the stationary gridlock of traffic. Radio playing something light and classical, the Russian had ample time to think. He admired the clear blue skies. It was a heavenly promise of escape from the grey world surrounding him. If only he was a bird that could fly away. He could fly to his former state of Georgia, the weather there was always pleasant. The landscape was pretty, despite being scarred by war.

Ivan would probably get sanctioned to death for looking at Georgia's bounty wrong. She was such a sensitive bitch that way. He would be better off visiting the sights in his own land. If Alfred was more co-operative, the ash blonde could visit the impressive gardens in California. America was such a pretty land, if so very stupid. Maybe he should visit again soon and beat more sense into Alfred. It could be fun.

00000

Four months later, Alfred was eating the last of a burrito. Truthfully, he was somewhat bored and very lost. The massive botanical center they were visiting was a bit on the dry side for entertainment. It hadn't been the plucky American's idea to come here at all. Russia showed up randomly and took over his car without asking. He did that a lot.

It seemed like the unstable nation was incapable of asking nicely for things. Of course, this was no surprise. Alfred would have been alright with going here if he'd been asked to. Silly Russians with their frowning pessimistic ways. The tall ash blond had been unhappier than usual this visit, looking ready to murder since he stepped off the plane. It was probably something about his boss being a dick.

Regardless of whether his guest was being hostile, it would reflect badly on Alfred if he lost the guy. One minute the Russian was with the tour group, the next he was gone. Retracing his steps, the freckled American ended up somewhere near the entrance. Now, where would a big moody guy go? Getting into grouchy old mode, Alfred played out a funny dialogue in his head.

_I'm a big Russian suck that's been alive since the dinosaurs. I hate everything because my bosses suppress the shit out of me. I hate the USA because I'm jealous he gets to wear colors other than grey or beige. Not even a basket of puppies or a big happy field of flowers could cheer me_ – That was it! The dummy was probably in a big field of flowers somewhere. There was only two of those here so far, since most displays were small and thematic. Grinning, Alfred bolted off to the most likely location. Feeling surprisingly energetic, he was able to run at a good pace. He wouldn't have been able to sprint so briskly two months ago.

Spotting one of the fields, it had to be the one. From afar, a figure was inside the display, kneeling in the dirt. Alfred confirmed it was his miserable Russian after a moment of observation. What was he doing? Curious, the blue eyed blond hunkered low and edged closer. Adjusting his glasses, Alfred took a double take.

Amidst the bright yellow flowers, Ivan was smiling. It was just a little thing, but it was the first the American had seen all year. The ash blonde also seemed to be talking to the sun, from the way he looked upwards. Was he praying? That would be ridiculous. The ancient nation was a stubborn atheist these days. Still, this was the first evidence of the tall man enjoying himself since forever. Alfred had assumed Ivan was being so regular in his visits because he was trying to accomplish something. He probably was, but this was something... interesting.

Russia was possibly enjoying these little visits, smiling in a friendly manner. He was forcing Alfred to eat all those months ago, observing him like a strange pet. The American had admittedly been very depressed at the time. Was Ivan trying to be nice in his own forceful way? The thought was a shocking one, if a sensible conclusion. Perhaps the confrontational nation was attempting to make friends.

Ducking behind a shrub to avoid detection, Alfred made a decision. He would test the friendship waters tonight, assuming Ivan was staying for a few days again. Waiting for his target to leave the field, Alfred trailed behind a fair distance. After a few minutes, he jogged up and tapped the guy on the shoulder. The Russian recoiled from the touch, swiveling around and backing up slightly. The tiny smile vanished in an instant. 

“Hey big guy. Looked for you everywhere.” Alfred greeted happily, ignoring the chilled response. After a moment, Ivan relaxed slightly and stood straight. “I was lost. We will rejoin tour.” he replied quickly. “We don't have to if you don't want to.” the shorter nation offered, continuing “Actually we could do anything you want. It's not often you're in California. I'm driving though.”

Ivan seemed to contemplate the generous offer, then nodded. “Let us leave. I wish to smoke and eat ice cream.” Twenty minutes later, they were doing exactly that. With the sun beginning to sink into the ocean, the wooden pier was abandoned. Alfred thought it was just a bit too chilly, autumn wind somewhat sharp. The temperature didn't register to Ivan. The normally serious nation seemed relaxed as he sat on a public bench.

Alfred had a chocolate ice cream cone while the other nation had plain vanilla. Everything was quiet for a time as rich bands of color striped the horizon. Ivan broke the silence, another first. “I am happy you have not grown tired of my presence.” he spoke, glancing at his American companion cautiously. “No problem dude. I had work to do earlier, but afternoons are boring.” Alfred replied breezily, before a small shiver rippled through him.

Finishing his smokes and dessert first, Alfred hugged himself to chase off the minor chill. Ivan took off his black sweater without a word, then forcefully pulled the clothing over the freckled blond. It was toasty warm and fit like a sail. The short tempered Russian _was_ trying to make friends! “Thanks!” Alfred cheered, flapping his arms like a bird once they slipped into giant sleeves. Looking over, Ivan was wearing a rather worn looking black T-shirt. Even his pants were black.

“What's with all the black? Did someone important die?” Alfred asked curiously. A small frown graced Ivan's neutral expression. “I kill terrorists on orders from my president. It is not wise to wear bright colors for messy tasks.” he replied flatly. “Oh man that sucks. I'm glad all I have to do is public relations... My latest guy keeps saying stupid stuff on social media. I'll be the joke of the world by the time this term is over. Then I'll have to kick someone's ass to make the other nations take me seriously again. Ugh. Europeans.” Alfred ranted, familiar with the unpleasant tendencies of poor leadership.

Engaged by the topic, Ivan replied “Da, is big frustration! I not know why Syria is being so difficult. I not my president, I only represent peoples. Is not my fault government is bothering him.” “He's being a pest?” Alfred asked with narrowed eyes. The middle eastern nation was known to be going through a rather public breakdown, not recovering for the better. Even Alfred was getting annoyed by the guy.

“So much. Broke window on my house.” the Russian answered. Huh, he was getting broken windows as well. “Let us speak of better things. Is unhappy topic. You have new film to see?” Ivan deflected, clearly not interested in discussing work. Alfred perked up, remembering a new amazing movie about robots. The advertisements for it looked neat. “Yeah, totally! If we hurry up we'll get to the theater in time.” he ordered excitedly, trying to drag his lazy guest off the bench. It was a bit of a task but doable.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Like what you see? Comment or leave a kudos!


	6. Chapter 6

The weather was furious, a small blizzard banging against the windows. Ivan ignored the sound, knowing it intimately after several centuries. He was far more concerned about the spread of maps and papers on his office desk. Over a year had past since Syria started heckling him, and the small bursts of terrorism were becoming bolder.

Ivan wouldn't stand for it. No one made attacks against his precious citizens and went unpunished. The foolishly insane nation would be destroyed, broken beyond repair. Syria wouldn't know his own name after Ivan was finished with him, a husk of a living being. The trouble was where to start. There was too many vital targets, and too many airports. While it would be more effective to only strike military areas, killing mass amounts of citizens would deliver a clearer message. Ugh, choices.

The Russian briefly wondered if he was a monster for considering killing citizens. He was already kicked out of the G8, or G7 as it was now, for a long list of reasons. Of course he was a monster. It was Ivan's job after all. Only he had the guts to make hard decisions in battle, to sacrifice lives for national ideals. Just as America was the world police, Ivan was the dark villain and terror of Europe. Some things unfortunately never changed.

The weather outside was getting progressively worse, glass shattering in the distance. Was it hailing? Ivan stood to investigate, picking up his favourite bastard sword. He wasn't allowed to bring it to world meetings anymore, but he still used it at home. Rounding the corner, Ivan felt a strong breeze. He also heard wheezing and groans of discomfort. A burglar, how perfect. He was looking for an outlet to take out his stresses on.

Entering the hall, Ivan advanced with blade raised. “Who are you?” he asked furiously in Russian, spotting a blond man sprawled on the floor. Snow blew in, howling and tugging at the man's thin winter clothes. “Christ, it's hell froze over out there.” the figure whined in English through chattering teeth. Ivan relaxed his battle pose, recognizing the voice. Just another display of America's 'stealth'.

Putting the weapon down, Ivan helped Alfred off the floor. The younger nation was extremely cold, normally tanned skin almost as white as Ivan's. “You're so warm.” Alfred stammered, clinging to the touch. That was concerning to hear, since the ash blond generally ran on the cooler side. Ivan had seen many men freeze to death before, and decided to keep an eye on things. Curled up on a chair Ivan brought in, the blue eyed blonde was watching sleepily. After one of Ivan's fluffiest sweaters and two cups of tea, the nation seemed to be thawing well. Now that he wasn't half dead, he was incurably nosy. 

“Hey Ivan, what ya doin'?” Alfred asked, peeking out from the thick collar of of the blue turtleneck sweater. “Is top secret. Wear sweater properly or it will stretch out, America.” Ivan casually dismissed, studying photos of a Syrian mountain range. “Alfred.” he heard from the corner. “What?” Ivan asked, not understanding the context. “You can call me Alfred, since we're friends now.” the younger nation clarified, pulling the turtleneck collar down proper.

Ivan froze for a minute, then slowly answered “We are friends?” “Duh. Why else would you do nice stuff for me? You wanted to be friends.” Alfred insisted, now up and looking over the Russian’s shoulder. “Syria, huh. I'm blowing up this city like _blam!_ And then this base like _kapow!_ There would be American flag fireworks after and everything, and party music. Then they would just surrender like that and I'd totally be the hero.” the tanned nation exclaimed, using his hands to imitate an explosion.

Listening to the rambling, Ivan watched and judged. It was actually a decent plan, if lacking critical detail. Both targets would have the highest casualties while still targeting military locations. Still something bothered Ivan more. “State the terms of being 'friends'.” he demanded highly skeptical. Not even India and China, his best business partners, desired to be his companions.

Alfred rolled his eyes, saying “Only you would ask... I don't know. Being there for each other I guess. Hanging out. Telling each other stuff. You know... friends!” “I require written proof of this friendship.” Ivan answered sharply, having been taken advantage of before. He had only been taking care of his former foe because the nation was pathetically weak. The ash blonde only wanted the strongest enemy as his possible nemesis. It was _almost_ acceptable to lose if he lost the strongest nation on earth.

“I knew you would ask that, so I had this lil' thing done up.” Alfred replied confidently, taking an envelope of out his coat in the corner. Ivan was impressed. It was a 100% legal document with precise terms of military assistance. The signed paper explicitly stated Ivan could visit whenever he desired to for 'tactical discussions'. Any wars Ivan might be considering, Alfred could weigh in on or possibly join. The agreement seemed to apply equally to both parties.

He really meant it. The silly energetic American wanted to be comrades with him! Failing to hold back a big smile, Ivan stood and gave his new companion a crushing hug. “Da, we are friends!” he cheered. The lonely Russian had not been friends with anyone since the 1700's. He was not aware anyone even wanted to be associated with him in the modern age. Muffled by a sweater, the ever talking American made little sense. Breaking free, Alfred gasped for air.

“Excited much?” he coughed. “Da Alik! I will go to store, and get hot chocolate, and little marsh mellows. We can bake cookies, watch movies...” Ivan rambled giddily, feeling his heart pound. It had been so long since he had guests over. Centuries longer since he had friends over. “Hold on big guy, there's one more thing.” Alfred said, handing him a music CD with messy signature scrawled on it. Ivan looked at the CD blankly, then at the blue eyed American. “It's a present. Today is your birthday, so um... Happy Birthday!” Alfred supplied with a smile.

Someone remembered his birthday. This obnoxious American man-child had gone half way around the world to deliver a birthday present in person. In hindsight, Ivan probably hadn't heard Alfred knocking due to the awful weather. Truthfully, the tanned nation was not terrible to be around. He just talked too much. “Thank you.” Ivan replied softly, holding the CD to his chest.

“It's no biggie. I got you a classical music collection thing. I waited to get it signed by the composer. It was this weird guy from New Yor – Ngh!” Alfred was cut off as Ivan set the CD down and hugged him again. “Shut up stupid American. It is everything.” Ivan purred, sincerely grateful. If Alfred held up his end of this friendship promise, Ivan didn't know what he would do. It would be something big. The freckled nation was very much into the spectacular and dramatic.

00000

It was a massacre despite only lasting a week. Russia was claiming full responsibility for the attack on the Syrian capital of Damascus. There was almost no survivors after, at least 2 million dead after an aggressive bombing and bio-warfare attack. The horrible yet necessary event painted Ivan in a more villainous light than ever before. Information had leaked to the G7 about USA involvement. Naturally, Alfred was totally involved with the attack. All the US troops and planes involved had simply worn Russian army colours while in the area. That was no one's business but his own.

Still, Alfred was summoned to England for an emergency meeting with the other members of the G7. Canada, Germany, Japan, Italy, England, France, and Sweden were all present in the room, seated far from Alfred at the long conference table. The American imagined this was what detention was like in modern schools.

“Now lad, You've been missing a lot of meetings lately. I think you've been hanging out with bad influences.” England started gingerly, unusually polite for once. Italy nodded in agreement, while Germany merely watched with tented fingers. “Perhaps you will tell us your side, mon cher?” France asked sweetly yet somehow flirtatiously.

“I've got nothing to say until a guest arrives.” Alfred replied cryptically. They looked surprised at the response. After several tense minutes, panicked noises came from outside the room. Russia walked in, having kicked the door open. A government lackey trailed behind him, weakly protesting at his intrusion. “Ivan! You're right on time buddy!” Alfred greeted warmly, drawing a real smile from the ancient nation.

“What do you think you're doing here you bloody rat!?” England demanded, looking pissed off. “Dad, please. Give us a minute.” the American cut in, not giving a shit about his father's feelings. Ivan set down a white box at the table, sitting closely next to Alfred. He then glared venomously at England. Unwrapping the box, there was two cupcakes inside. One was chocolate, while the other was white vanilla. “Aw yeah! Cupcakes. You're the best.” Alfred cheered as he was handed the chocolate one.

Quickly consuming the treats, Alfred and Ivan return their attention to the meeting. “Vhat are you doing here? You vere voted out.” Germany asked bluntly, not one for niceties. Ivan smirked, then looked to Alfred. “Oh right...” the younger nation started, remembering what to do. “I totally helped Ivan smash up Damascus. As far as I'm concerned, Syria deserves it for being a dick.” Alfred admitted, not guilty in the least.

Japan looked saddened, while everyone else looked mad. “I will continue killing Syrians until they surrender and restructure their broken system.” Ivan stated calmly, hand clasped on the table. “What gives you the right?” England demanded. “Syria lost his rights when his people started bombing my subway stations! No one threatens my people!” Ivan snapped, losing his cool. Putting a reassuring hand on the Russian's shoulder, Alfred smiled. The ash blond took a deep breath, then sat up straight.

“Are you guys a friends now?” Italy asked, largely clueless. “We are best comrades.” Ivan gushed, pulling Alfred into a hug. The American blushed despite himself. Prior to the promise of friendship, he had no idea Russians were so intensely affectionate. It was like interacting with a completely new side of the nation. Beneath the cool emotionless exterior was burning willpower and desire to serve.

“Wirr you be attacking other G7 members, Arfred-kun?” Japan asked solemnly. “Dude, you and me are super friends. I'll never ever hurt a _hair_ on ya, and neither will he.” Alfred soothed, released from Ivan's cuddly grip. “But...” Ivan protested, only to receive an angry glare from Alfred. “Da, da. I will leave _tiny_ island alone.” he sighed, giving in easily. This seemed to calm Japan's nerves considerably.

“You must stop assisting Russia, America. Ve don't approve of it and you never asked. Ve are supposed to be a team.” Germany imposed, clearly not happy with the situation. “What If I don't want to?” Alfred challenged coldly. No one ever told him what to do and walked away unscathed. “Now, lets just... breathe and talk this out. No need to get excited, eh.” Canada interjected urgently, strangely soothing and effective.

The meeting calmed after a moment of silence. “Do you have anything else to say in your defense?” Germany asked, sounding like a judge at a trial. “I don't see what the big deal is. Syria is willingly hosting terrorists. Terrorists are bad. One more battle like Damascus and he's going to surrender for sure. All the bad guys will surrender with him!” Alfred argued, ignoring the negative reception of his words. Ivan shook his head, replying “It useless to appeal to them, Alik. They wish for peace without sacrifice.” 

Feeling frustrated, Alfred sat and stared at the table. Russia was right from the beginning. They were all spineless. He thought they were his friends, that they would understand basic medieval tactics. Kill a state before they become a huge problem. But here they were, judging him like he was... Russia. He was and would always be an outsider.


	7. Chapter 7

Amidst the gunfire and chaos, panicking citizens bolted away from battle. The battle for the city of Aleppo was going well, with little to no resistance after the devastating bombing raid. Alfred was pinned down by gunfire behind a burnt out car, with Ivan at his side. “Comrade, can you hear it?” Ivan whispered while close, heart beating with adrenaline. “What?” Alfred rasped, reloading his rifle. “The shooting, it slows down. They are conserving rounds. There is few left inside.” the Russian informed gleefully. Alfred paused his frantic reloading to listen. “You're right. Any grenades left?” he asked, so serious.

Ivan was in awe of the scene before him a minute later. Following a grenade explosion, the pair ran into the building. Through the dust and smoke, the American pushed forward, shooting anything that moved. Dead men fell around him like priests bowing to death itself. He was more divine being than nation, a glorious bloody Valkyrie of war. The Russian was eternally grateful to have this force of nature as his friend.

They swept through the building systematically as a duo, having 360 degrees of visual awareness at all times. The door to the last room was kicked open, weapons at the ready. Inside was an older man with an unkempt black beard and dark skin. His vivid amber eyes were trained on Alfred, completely unafraid. He fire his gun at the pair, to have it jam suddenly. Fearful the next shot would succeed, Ivan shot him in the face multiple times. 

After the rush of battle, a vacuous silence engulfed the entire building. Ivan watched with fascination as the bullet wounds healed slowly before his eyes. “He is... like us.” Ivan commented softly, looking to his combat companion. “Dude, I think this is Syria. I just have this feeling in my gut. He has to be.” Alfred murmured, patting the recovering man down for weapons.

Stripped down, the mysterious figure was bound with multiple zip ties. It would have to suffice until they found nice steel chains. The comfortable silence resumed until a radio crackled to life on Alfred's hip. As Alfred replied to the American military chatter, Ivan felt a smile tug at his lips. His personal quest of revenge for his wronged citizens was complete. He could soon leave this wretched desert city behind and return to his winter touched home.

The younger nation was clearly done talking on his radio, vacantly staring at the man bound on the floor. Ivan couldn't help but hug the younger blond, overwhelmed with gratitude and joy. “Thank you, Alik, thank you.” he praised, nuzzling that puppy soft hair. “For what?” the stupid American asked, dense like always. “Helping me get revenge. No one has helped me like this before. We captured a nation together.” Ivan clarified, feeling giddy.

“Oh... well. Don't worry about that. We're friends.” Alfred replied shyly, blushing. “I will not forget this.” Ivan promised. He would be the best friend this mortal realm had ever seen. History books would boast of his dedication to friendship. Hearing soldiers marching up the stairs Ivan ended his very long hug mournfully. It somehow seemed inappropriate to be seen by others, a special best friend interaction only.

Setting violet eyes maliciously on the assumed form of Syria, Ivan formed a great scheme. He had plans for the unfortunate nation.

00000

It was not a surprise when Alfred was temporarily suspended from the G7. All of Europe was angry, to put it lightly. When were they not angry? Two weeks after the living symbol of Syria was captured, most of the country fell into Russian control. Alfred had not seen his friend once during that time period. That was fine. Ivan was probably too busy with assigning the fate of a fallen nation to respond to text messages.

Canada was visiting, largely to console Alfred after the G7 chewed him out. The American could care less about that. He mostly lay curled up on the couch at home, watching his cell phone sadly. Ivan could at least send a smiley face, or a picture. What the hell was he doing that required two weeks of no communication?

“I'm sorry about the G7, but other members were worried.” Matthew offered. Alfred sighed, then looked at his sibling. “It's not that, bro.” he replied. “What is it?” the Canadian asked gently. Alfred pondered if he should say anything at all, but he was so unhappy. Ready to burst from frustration, he threw caution to the wind.

“Mattie, why won't he call back?” Alfred whined, not caring how immature he sounded. This was important stuff! Matthew blinked, then looked at him with a curious expression. “Russia?” he guessed, earning another whine from Alfred. “How did you end up involved with him?” Matthew asked, helping himself to the maple cookies on the coffee table. They were scattered among Alfred's 'bad day' stash of junk food.

Alfred scoffed, retorting “Involved? Really? You make it sound like a relationship. You need two sane people capable of love for a relationship. Russia does not fit that description, at all. We're just friends.” Matthew looked at him flatly with pale purple irises. “Right. When did you guys starting hanging out as friends?” he asked, clearly not believing Alfred for a second. Whatever, let him assume his stupid fantasies.

“Well I was kind of... sick for a bit. In the spring. He noticed and followed me home. After making me take care of myself again, he would stick around for a few days. To hide from his boss. The sickness cleared up real quick.” Alfred explained, muddying the details to the point of lying. “He followed you home? That doesn't set off any alarms?” Canada asked dubiously. Alfred shrugged, answering “He was bored and wanted to visit someone. No harm done.”

The cell phone rang, instantly stealing all of Alfred's attention. He answered it in a second, trying to sound casual. “Hello?” he greeted. “Alik, I have big surprise for you.” Ivan replied. Heart fluttering, the American was relieved to hear that voice. “Where?” he asked eagerly. “Outside, check your lawn.” the Russian replied. Ignoring Matthew's questioning expression, Alfred ran past and pulled the front door wide open.

On the shoveled cobblestone pathway, Ivan stood amidst the whiteness of a city in winter. He wore a lovely long coat, trimmed with beige fur. He was holding a leash, like those meant for dogs. It lead to a collar fastened to a man's neck. It was Syria, bundled up in winter clothes. Ivan smiled sincerely, walking over. Syria followed behind obediently, looking to Ivan for instruction constantly.

The scene was pretty fucked up, but Alfred had seen worse during the battle of Damascus. He bounced excitedly on the balls of feet until Ivan was inside and the door was closed. “Ivan!” he squealed happily, giving the northern nation a big hug. Ivan dropped the leash and returned the gesture, twirling Alfred around the room. “Mmm. Alik, I apologize for my long absence. I very busy.”

Settling on the couch, Ivan followed Alfred's lead after shedding his coat. He whistled sharply, Syria bolting over anxiously. The Russian point at the ground beside his feet expectantly, saying “Sit.” The middle eastern nation obeyed instantly, then looked up for affirmation. “Good Syria. Stay.” Ivan cooed, returning to cuddling Alfred's right side. Canada just stared at the freakish display.

“So I'm glad to see you, but what's up with... that?” Alfred asked, loosely motioning to the nation curled up on the floor like an animal. “I restructured Syria. I am giving him to you as a late Christmas present.” Ivan explained cheerfully. “You know how I feel about slavery, Braginsky.” Alfred replied disapprovingly. The Russian was quick to dismiss the archaic notion, saying “Nyet! Is not slavery. I conditioned him, so you raise him as you wish. Was very difficult to finish in two weeks, but not impossible.”

“Oh. If that's all.” Alfred replied breezily, less concerned. Syria was not a pet then, but waiting rehabilitation. “How is any of this okay?” Canada demanded, outraged. “Dude, it's fine. I'll fix up Syria and give him back to his country. Or state. I don't know what Ivan is doing with the place.” the American said, surprised at his normally calm brother. “You are mistaken, Alfred. I giving all of Syria to you.” Ivan corrected.

Ivan was giving Alfred an entire country as a late Christmas gift. It was... beyond words. He was so sweet and thoughtful. How could anyone be afraid of him? “Oh Ivan. I'm so... Yes. Yes I'll take your gift. I'll take such good care of him, and teach him stuff. He'll be the best country ever, besides... you.” the American stammered, wiping what was not tears of joy from his eyes. He totally never cried. Ivan dabbed the freckled blond's face clean with a handkerchief, looking equally as pleased. “I so glad. Every country I try to fix breaks. But you, you have hope and dreams. You are capable of joy, while I am nothing but monster. I know you can fix him.” Ivan nearly whispered.

Alfred and Ivan clung together affectionately, happiness bubbling up into laughter. “Well. I'm off. You two love birds have fun.” Matthew bid goodbye, openly disgusted. “We aren't capable of that, bro.” Alfred yelled after him. Slamming the door behind him, the Canadian was officially gone. 

“Love. A foolish dream.” Ivan retorted. “I know right? He thought we were in a relationship.” Alfred replied. Both nation burst into laughter, lessening to chuckles. “So stupid. I need to be sane for that.” the Russian noted, giving his companion a gentle smile. Alfred returned the gesture, hopeful.


	8. Chapter 8

Ivan couldn't visit much after the fall of Syria. After convincing most of the Kremlin keeping the war torn place was too much debt, the paper work was unending. It had been incredibly difficult to give the unfortunate nation to his best friend in the whole world. Breaking the spirit of Syria had been tough, requiring doses of drugs nearly fatal to humans. Between sensory deprivation and the presumably terrible visions, it was enough to destroy the proud man to a whimpering child.

The reconditioning was brutal but effective, priming Syria for a new life, and new morals. Ivan had considered raising him as a new state. Looking at how North Korea turned out, it was a very bad idea. Ivan was a doting father most of the time, but his jaded attitude and tendency toward violence was unhealthy. Hardly parenting material. 

Alfred would do much better. He could be heavy handed when discipline was required. Beyond that, the freckled blond was friendly, and loved spending time with others. He thrived on it, like a sunflower craving the day. Ivan could see it in his mind's eye now. Alfred dragging Syria with him to the grocery store and showing him the different types of fruits. Alfred introducing Syria to different kinds of people, teaching him more tolerance. Not like Ivan, with his busy work schedule. Syria would be stuck inside all day, unable to deal with the cooler Russian seasons. Having him rehabilitated by the warm blooded American was a more merciful fate.

It went without saying that Ivan's government was still angry though. They had full intentions of stripping the country bare of resources. Something about the notion didn't sit well in the Russian’s gut. The act would be cruel, even by his long degraded standards. You didn't do that to other nations if you could help it. Well, not often anyway. It was almost as bad as bio-warfare.

Ivan didn't savor having to use poisonous gas at the battle of Damascus. It was horrible to see dying citizens, glassy eyed and foaming at the mouth. War was never pretty, a wretched beast like him. The truth was bio-warfare killed half the city's forces before a single Russian soldier set food in the place. It saved thousands of troop's lives. It was for his own citizens, Ivan always had to remind himself.

After another day of wrangling complications from transferring Syrian control, Ivan finally made it home. He turned his phone on, surprised to see so many text messages. Only two thirds of them were hate letters. Deleting those, Ivan read the rest with great interest. It was only a month since he left Syria at America's house, and training was going wonderfully. The former terrorist apparently had his first trip to a farmer's market today, with moderate success. In the attached photos, the bearded nation looked timidly happy while mesmerized by stall trinkets. Yes, the war ravaged country had a bright future. The small comfort made Ivan smile.

00000

“Omigod, It's been forever!” Alfred cheered, running towards the end of the long stone driveway. A huge foreboding house was at the end, a massive relic from a bygone age. Ivan stood in front, walking calmly closer. That ridiculous nation was always so level headed. Catching the energetic fireball of an American, Ivan was knocked back a bit but held on. After three months of drowning in work, both had managed to finally arrange a weekend off. It was only three days, but it was already better than texts.

Truly alone, Ivan didn't end the hug. It did however, become less tightly suffocating. “I glad you could make it. I made so many snack foods for us to eat.” Ivan informed happily. “Ooh, a feast. Carry me to my banquet, awesome knight!” Alfred ordered teasingly. He was taken off guard when Ivan swept him off his feet. Tossing the younger nation over one shoulder like a sack of potatoes, the Russian headed inside.

“If I am knight, you are mere pawn.” Ivan countered. “At least I can go anywhere on the board!” Alfred replied quickly, trying to tickle his ride through thin T-shirt fabric. Erupting into laughter, Ivan nearly dropped his captive while trying to shield his sides. “Stop Alik! I will fall!” he tittered, dumping Alfred on the cool wooden floor inside. The American ceased his torture, impressed by Ivan's home.

In comparison to several months ago, the Russian’s home was finally clean. It had never been truly filthy like Alfred's place. It mostly felt abandoned at first. Every piece of art and furniture was lovingly placed, but plastic covers were draped over most things. There was dust so thick, everything was tinted grey. It resembled a museum, once tended to but now neglected to time. There was even art-deco rooms from the 1950's in the original part of the house, preserved yet frozen in dated grandiose.

The kitchen, laundry room, one bathroom, and an office were always immaculate. On the second floor, a large bedroom was also maintained. The rest of the house was often unlit for years at a time, making it even creepier. Ivan once admitted to not knowing what lights worked anymore, or where the new electrical work met the old.

“All of main floor is clean now, though two rooms not have power.” Ivan explained, sounding quite proud of himself. “It smells so lemony in here, and you took the plastic off stuff. Oh a fireplace! Let's burn shit!” Alfred exclaimed, checking out the now habitable living room. It was turquoise and gold themed, clearly from the 60's or 70's.

Ivan sighed and shook his head, replying “Nyet. Chimney is closed off.” There went that plan. “No Syria?” the Russian asked, disliking conversation about his once lively home. “Nah. He's fully house safe now. I left him with food and a few jugs of lemonade. He's crazy about the stuff.” Alfred replied casually. He was the best foster parent ever in his own mind.

“So, I was kicked out of the G7. They replaced me with some other goof. I'm not really surprised. I gave Israel some new guns for Hanukah then threatened a few people. Mattie came by to make sure I was dealing, but I kinda don't care? All they ever did was drink and bitch. I can do that at your house for less money.” Alfred rambled.

“You prefer my companionship over others?” Ivan asked softly, barely heard. Why did he have to do that face, like the cutest thing ever. That expression had to turned into a laser. “Of course, block head. Why the hell would I drag my ass half way around the world then? To not visit you?” Alfred teased. After a moment, there was no snappy comeback. Ivan looked strange, rosy and speechless. “I will return soon, then we have lunch.” he uttered, vanishing off to parts unknown.

Left on his own, Alfred explored the contents of the dated living room. There was pictures still hanging on the wall from before the USSR collapsed. There was at least 18 other current countries that had been part of Ivan's sweeping influence at one point. It was ironic he once had such a large family, since he always looked so solemn in the pictures. Then again, every state he had personal involvement with had serious issues in the head. Latvia never stopped shaking. Estonia gave Ivan a run for his money when it came to cynical paranoia. Belarus was... troubled.

It was hardly a surprise Syria was gifted to Alfred. He had a softer approach than the authoritarian Russian. Alaska was doing fine these days, while Hawaii was no longer resentful over being annexed. Alfred was always on speaking terms with Philippines and Israel, even if his presidents tended to be rather short sighted. South Korea and Japan even enjoyed hanging out with Alfred once every few months.

It wasn't all Russia’s fault his colonies and states ended up as disasters. He just didn't have that special charisma or suave. He really was the awkward kid of the world. If one looked at him just as a living being with needs, it could almost be cute.

Quickly bored, the American headed upstairs. What on god's green earth could be taking so long? He was immediately distracted by a open door, peeking inside. It was Ivan's bedroom! Alfred hadn't broken into this place since the late 70's. It would be neat to see if much had changed. Pushing the door aside, he slipped in and took a visual inventory.

It was clean yet oddly damaged. Wallpaper was torn in a few places, while a notable hole was in the wall. Weird. Otherwise the elaborately carved furniture was the same as the last time. There was still a big king size bed with a wooden canopy, and two dressers. A modern television was set up in front of the bed, with a bar fridge and a recycling bin off to the side. It was as efficient as it was depressing. The sad bastard didn't even have to get up to drink in bed.

Digging through the dressers, Alfred noted one held winter clothes while the other was lighter summer pieces. So far there wasn't a single scrap of porn or sex toys in the entire place. Ivan must had been a saint to avoid such temptations. Alfred had once been the same, until the 60's. That entire decade was a blur of sex and drugs when he wasn't in battle.

“I not give permission for entering this room Alik.” Ivan growled from behind, spooking Alfred as he explored a dresser drawer. Ivan could be so quiet! “You own like no porn. How is that even possible? There isn't even dirty cave drawings or anything.” Alfred exclaimed, ignoring the ash blond's dark warning. The intimidating facade fell, leaving Ivan embarrassed. “Why you even... Nyet. Stop looking for dirty things.” he stammered, blushing as he dragged Alfred out of the private room. “Ah ha! You do own porn!” Alfred stated smugly. Hah. Like Ivan of all people was a saint.

“Nyet. I have no need for... porn.” he argued, spitting out the last word like it was toxic. Alfred rolled his eyes, dropping the topic. The guy was such a fucking liar. “What's for lunch, big guy?” the blue eyed blond asked, eager to eat after a draining 8 hour flight. Relieved for a change of topic, they both filed into the kitchen.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Like what you see? Comment or leave a kudos!


	9. Chapter 9

Despite the visit starting off disastrously, Ivan was having a good time. He just had to be watchful of his body's treacherous reactions. Despite his lack of experience with healthy friendships, the Russian knew his recent urges were not appropriate. Alfred was merely a comrade. Ivan would not foul this up and break the boy like he had so many others. Besides, love and physical attraction were luxuries he could not afford in his position. He had too many duties to uphold.

After a light lunch of fried eggs and hash browns, they washed the dishes. Due to time zone differences, the typical breakfast was all for Alfred's sake. The younger nation was still seven hours behind. Next they were filling balloons with water and tying them shut. “It's a physics experiment of sorts. I want to test a theory.” Alfred claimed. Well, that sounded fair. The Russian had the highest respect for scientific pursuits. After thirty balloons were filled, they carried the things outside.

“For the experiment, we can't have anything that could get water damaged. You know, in case one breaks.” Alfred explained with utmost seriousness. That sounded strange, but not completely unlikely. Ivan complied and emptied his pockets of devices and paper in the kitchen, returning promptly.

“What is first stage of – Yebat!” Ivan snarled mid-speech, feeling a water balloon burst upon hitting him. Cold water crept under his collared shirt and soaked his back. Alfred grinned deviously, looking ready to bolt. Ivan looked at his fifteen water balloons while Alfred now held fourteen. It suddenly all clicked into place. This was a game. He was being challenged to a game. The boy was going to regret that, for Ivan detested losing.

The duel was not going as Ivan planned several minutes later. Ivan was soaked to his socks, while the swift American was still mostly dry. Out of water balloons, Ivan was backed against the house while hiding in a bushy shrub. Alfred was close, still owning an armful of watery projectiles. Spotting the water hose coiled on the ground, the ash blond grinned evilly.

“You defeat me, great America! I am desiring surrender!” Ivan called out in sing song moments later. “I don't believe you! Show yourself ruski!” Alfred shot back, voice closer as he spoke. Just as the tanned man rounded the corner of the house, Ivan sprayed him full blast with the water hose. In the panic, Alfred dropped and broke his remaining ammunition. “I give! I give! Turn it off!” he whined loudly, completely doused in cold water.

Switching the water off, they both stood there dripping. Alfred smiled, then broke into laughter. The joyful sound was infectious, tugging at Ivan's heart. Soon he too was chuckling despite himself. “You got me good man. You are the king of water fights... for now.” Alfred praised, slogging to the front of the house where there was warm sun.

Ivan followed, surprised to see two figures walking up to his door. One was obviously his big sister, short ash blonde hair and generous assets fit into a blue shirt. The other was Belarus, longer hair and a long dress that accented her dangerous feminine form. Ivan faltered when her dark blue eyes locked onto him. “Belarus. How... lovely to see you.” he greeted in halting Russian, feeling dread.

She looked ready to pounce and clung to him like a disease, then she paused. Ivan wondered what could possibly repel the crazed sibling when steel doors would not. She didn't want to get her dress wet. Her vanity slightly outweighed her possessiveness. What a wonderful treat to discover! “Do you not wish for a hug from big brother?” Ivan leered, emphasizing the water dripping off of him.

“I love you Vanya, but... this dress is silk. I do not want it ruined.” Belarus whimpered, clearly battling herself on the decision. She was almost shaking with the need to touch him. That scared Ivan much more than the many blades she always wore. He was actually just as proficient with daggers and swords, having taught her the vital skill. He simply exercised more restraint and didn't wave them around like a crazed loon.

Ukraine trembled in his presence like usual, clutching two written cheques. “Little brother, I know we are late for paying the gas bill. We brought what we could...” she offered demurely. Ivan put his hands up, stopping her from handing the papers over. “Let me dry first.” he replied, going inside to find towels. Out of view from his sisters, he could hear animated chatter. Returning a moment later, he paused before exiting the house to listen.

“... but it is nice to see you with little Vanya. I hoped he would make friends sometime.” Ukraine said. “He's not a bad guy, his government just sucks. That's what the other nations don't get. I mean... someone that makes blini that tasty is not evil.” the voice of Alfred replied in passable Russian. It was so clumsy, yet the way he rolled his r's. It might as well be an aphrodisiac. Unable to wait, Ivan bounded out to confirm what he was hearing. 

Alfred was openly conversing in Russian with his sisters. They were smiling and engaged. Belarus was just smirking and nodding mostly, but it was incredibly civil on her part. Ivan knew he could read the language, but speaking it was a wonderful surprise. “You know Russian.” Ivan asked in awe, using his native language. “Yes, but It's not my favorite. I have trouble with all the consonants.” Alfred replied with a grimace. His angel of war speaking a language of love was so sexy.

After a round of iced sweet tea, his dear sisters departed. Ivan couldn't help himself, absolutely smitten the rest of the day. The day was filled with innocent activities around the house. There was a monstrously huge puzzle Ivan had been working on. Alfred didn't help so much as talk continuously.

“... but that was enough for me. I told him to shove it and walked out of that shitty bar. I was definitely the hottest guy there, that dope was just blind.” Alfred concluded the longest story about walking into a wrong building ever. Ivan had been listening, it was just so difficult to concentrate. He was so hard it hurt under the kitchen table.

“Alfred, speak in Russian.” Ivan requested, shifting a few chairs closer. “Why? I sound horrible.” Alfred replied, switching languages as asked. “You don't. You're almost completely fluent. It's amazing.” Ivan flattered shamelessly. “You'll make a fella blush tossing nice words around like that.” the American dismissed, hiding his expression with both hands. A tell tale blush could be seen creeping down his neck.

Ivan needed to be closer, more than clothes would allow. He wanted to taste and touch. He couldn't stand denying this feeling. The Russian had not felt true lust for centuries, forgetting how consuming it's nature was. Anxieties about his actions evaporated as he outright grabbed Alfred. “What are you doing?” Alfred squawked, not resisting at all. Ivan let his baser urges take him. Kissing Alfred's soft lips, Ivan quivered from the sensation. He held on even tighter, breaking for air after a minute.

After a second kiss, the two nations had slid to the floor while consuming each other. Alfred was more than willing, holding on just as tight. Without disconnecting, they battled amorously for dominance. Alfred ended up the victor, straddling Ivan's waist on top. The Russian bucked upwards, desperate for friction against his straining cock. Alfred threw his head back and moaned, a beautiful sound Ivan wanted more of. “Bedroom.” Alfred whispered with great urgency, grinding his hips against Ivan's burgeoning erection. The Russian was quick to carry Alfred bridal style upstairs.

It was safe to assume the puzzle would be abandoned for the rest of the evening.

00000

After a marathon of sex, There was only half a day left before Alfred had to go home. He wasn't looking forward to it. That meant leaving the soft covers of Ivan's bed. Currently Ivan was draped around him, content while watching TV. “Do you have to go dear? I want you to stay forever.” he cooed, licking Alfred's face. The American was too relaxed to care about the strange affection. It was easily one of the more innocent things done to his body this weekend.

“I have to go home eventually.” Alfred sighed, looking into the royal purple eyes of his... weird Russian. “I don't think we are friends anymore.” the American stated flatly. “Nyet! I thought... You looked so happy...” Ivan sputtered anxiously, gripping him tightly. “Relax big guy. I'm not leaving, I'm just saying regular friends don't go at it like rabbits.” Alfred soothed, running hands through Ivan's shaggy hair.

The more serious side of his companion came out, stating “Alfred. I will admit I have not taken a lover for centuries. It difficult to make such commitments. But you must promise me something.” Alfred couldn't resist pinching Ivan's cheeks, making him look goofy. “What is it?” he asked after. “Loyalty. It is _everything_.” Ivan clarified.

Alfred couldn't help but laugh. Ivan was so utterly ridiculous. “I helped you take over an entire country because I like you. What more could you ask?” he replied humorously. “I want you to be mine. No one else can have you.” The Russian insisted, not one for jokes. Alfred stared at him a moment. Ivan started looking concerned. “Are you sure you want to Ivan?” the younger nation asked lowly.

The Russian raised a brow in questioning. Alfred chewed his lip, then decided to come out with it. “Ivan... I've been around. I might not be the best choice.” he replied cryptically. Sitting up now, the ash blond looked at him curiously. Fuck, the block head was going to make Alfred say it, wasn't he? “I've slept with a lot of folks, Ivan. I'm not some pretty little virgin. Are you sure you want to get tangled up in all that?” he clarified further.

“I not care, Alik. You are mine. I made my choice, and I _never_ wrong.” Ivan repeated stubbornly. He Furrowed pale brows in concentration, then dragged the prone American into his lap. Carding fingers through golden blonde hair, he said “If you slept with hundreds, I not care. That is in your past. It not make you lesser, or filthy. You are my angel of war. You are destruction incarnate, and you are perfect.”

Alfred felt it again, like a dam bursting. His heart threatened to spill over with fuzzy affections. This didn't seem real. “Destruction incarnate, huh.” he muttered, feeling heated. No doubt he was blushing a deeper red than Ivan's bed spread. Ivan nodded, then peppered him with possessive kisses. “I think... I would enjoy being yours.” Alfred replied, then continued. “... if you were mine too.” “Forever.” Ivan reassured with a chaste kiss.


	10. Chapter 10

Ivan and Alfred knew the fragility of international politics. It was purely for this reason that they kept their dates secret. It hurt inside to not lavish affections on Alfred every possible moment. After centuries of a solitary lifestyle, he burned with the consuming fires of love. He was absolutely certain the maddening emotion would never haunt his bones again after the last decapitation. He didn't feel much of anything for decades after that event.

Two years after fatefully following Alfred home, all of the world had no clue of their relations. Technically Canada knew, and France suspected as much. No one listened them often though. The American was desiring to go public as of late. It was making things more difficult for Ivan and his conservative government. Today was no exception.

It was a 'spring' world meeting in Mexico city, and the heat was crippling. Alfred didn't seem to notice, more tolerant of high temperatures. Not many other Nordic or Slavic nations bothered to attend due to the location. Flick. Flick. Another piece of paper hit Ivan's face. He was steadfastly ignoring Alfred's attempts to get his attention. The Russian loved him intensely, but sometimes Ivan wanted to strangle the man child. Now was one of those times.

Finally after another paper bounced off his shoulder, Ivan glared at his idiot lover. Alfred grinned and waved. Ugh. How did the blue eyed American even have the energy to move in this weather? Ivan felt his phone vibrate in his pocket. After a moment he lazily checked it. It was a short text of “Let's go fuck in a closet.”

Groaning, Ivan felt exhausted just thinking about it. Alfred's lively libido was welcome in most situations, but not this day. Another text popped up, reading “They wouldn't even know.” “No. It is too hot.” Ivan typed back, then looked up. Germany had spotted him sending texts and looked slightly disappointed. The sweaty ash blonde ignored this and laid his head on the table again. He tried his best to listen while slowly lulled into sleep by crushing heat.

“Next to present, America.” Germany called out. Alfred stood with flourish, smiling brightly as he said “I have finished paying reparations to Syria, and assisted mediating an alliance between him and Israel. All things considered, We're on friendly terms. As for imports and exports...” Ivan tuned out the boring stuff, having already read about it on Alfred's computer while he was in the bathroom. “... and finally, I have news! Me and Russia are allied. It's a pretty big deal military wise.”

Ivan sat upright upon hearing this, shocked. Alfred had said he would behave, and even kissed on it! Granted the kisses led somewhere else, but that wasn't important. The rest of the room woke up as well, staring. Someone chuckled, another nation looked dubious. Australia broke the silence, saying “That's funny mate. Haven't heard that joke before.” “I'm serious guys!” Alfred whined, looking irritated. A round of low laughter rippled down the table. German sat the entire time, quietly horrified.

“Fine. You want proof?” Alfred growled, then climbed over the table. Ivan suddenly had a lap full of affectionate American. The sweet blonde was always an amazing kisser, making Ivan melt for different reasons. Even in this overheated setting, he tasted so sweet and perfect. Hard in no time, Ivan gasped as skilled hips rolled against him. Then Alfred whispered seductively “I'm wearing a plug. We could go right now." Ivan bit his lip, stifling an excited noise.

“Zat is enough. Ve believe you.” Germany finally cut in, pulling the aroused Russian to reality. “Ah non. It was getting good!” France objected, currently recording with his phone. “Excuse us.” Ivan said tersely, dragging a happy American out of the room. His teasing companion was going to get railed so hard he wouldn't walk straight after.

00000

Though Ivan felt no obligation to return to the meeting, Alfred did. For one, all their papers were still there. The meetings were actually important, the only time he saw most of these people. Feeling eyes follow him as he entered the meeting room, Alfred sat down. He put on his usual confident bluff, like nothing had happened at all. 

France smiled warmly, greeting “Bonjour mon cher. Where is Russie?” Smirking Alfred replied “Probably passed out by an AC.” “Arthur missed a good meeting.” France mused. Alfred sighed, agreeing “I wished he could have seen it. I wanted to really piss the old man off.” Returning their attention to Mexico as she spoke about a recycling plant, they quieted down.

After a bit, everything was wrapped up. As nations filed out in search of the hotel pool, he gathered Ivan's abandoned things. Germany approached, handing him a typed note that had fluttered some distance from the table. “Thanks dude.” Alfred cheered, accepting the page. “Vorking with Russia, you could take over any country. You could take over the vorld.” the German noted dryly.

This made Alfred genuinely laugh. “Luddie, you're such a cute little bratwurst. We could, but it would be a massive waste of time. I mean... do you have any idea how needy my 51 states are, or Ivan's 76? I never get vacation time, ever. Ivan doesn't sleep enough as it is.” he explained, patting the nervous German on the shoulder. The strict blond took a deep breath and relaxed, replying “Zat is gut. I vas concerned.”

Finished packing, Alfred started walking away, then paused. “The only person at risk is Somalia or North Korea. They are annoying little bitches lately.” he said flippantly, flashing a Hollywood smile. Germany looked like he was going to have a heart attack as the American left the room.

It was not a surprise to discover Ivan in their shared hotel room. He was stripped down to boxers and sleeping like a rock. The air conditioner was on full blast, making the room distinctively chilly. Crazy Russians with their antifreeze blood. Cuddling the still form on the bed, Alfred was content. He could honestly say he was hopeful for the future. Ivan wasn't nearly as optimistic, but he would be. Alfred would guide him out of his self imposed darkness with love and devotion. Together they could truly achieve anything.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The end! Hope ya'll enjoyed the journey!

**Author's Note:**

> Like what you see? Comment or leave a kudos!


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